


Parry

by scarvesandjumpers



Series: And I put ribbons in her hair, for she is worth the tangles [2]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Flashbacks, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 12:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16095905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarvesandjumpers/pseuds/scarvesandjumpers
Summary: There were no mannequins in the window, no fancy dresses or hat racks or potions…. She lowered her axe, staring in confusion at the item on display – a sword. A fencing sword. A rapier.-A memory returns to Eudora.





	Parry

Boot braced on its back, Eudora tugged her trick axe from the sunken head of the beast below her. She gave it a harsh shake once it was free, splattering blood onto the cobblestone street, and hooked the  
axe onto her belt. Eudora crouched and began patting the beast’s pockets and found a few useless gold coins; she tossed them onto the street as she straightened up and wiped sweat from her face with the back of her grimy hand. She glanced at the streets behind her, checking that the commotion hadn’t attracted a mob, then continued down the street.

She didn’t have a solid goal for that endless day. Just clear out the streets – not that it mattered when she did, as they were refilled with vermin within hours - and perhaps find a new safe space to light a lantern for passage back to the Dream. Her feet ached, and she wondered how long it had been since she last rested. Time was meaningless when there was no night or day, just being, lights shifting around her, never darkening, really, but changing, flowing like water. She wondered if it was just her imagination – a trick her formerly-human mind played on her as it begged for a respite from the Hunt.

A shriek of agony filled the air, and Eudora paused, head tilting towards the sound, slate-black shades glinting in the burnt orange sunlight. The scream echoed through the streets, bouncing off brick and stone and glass. She gripped her axe a little tighter. Counted to ten.

Nothing.

Silence – or as close as one could get to silence among the muffled muttering behind thick wood doors, the dripping of damp, and the occasional moan from a dying creature.

Eudora moved on.

She turned a corner, head tilting up to peer at the wooden signs mounted above the grimy glass and iron windows she passed. She was in some sort of commerce district – cafes and coffee houses and beauty parlors as far as the eye could see. Through the windows she saw dust covered mannequins in beautiful dresses and hats, crumbling menu boards advertising fancy teas and coffees, and toppled over  
bottles of snake oil cure-alls and tonics. She strained to remember a time when something so trivial would appeal to her, but somehow, she felt that even in her life before the Hunt such things weren’t of great importance to her. She’d taken to the Hunt far too easily to be someone so soft. Such things suited other women far better - suited the Doll.

The mere thought of the Doll made Eudora’s lip quirk into a quiet smile. She had another gift for her in her pocket, something to secret into her hand the next time she spun her magic through her veins to invigorate her spirit and strengthen her body. It was a little tin box engraved with birds and filled with lacy ribbons and ties in a gleaming, untouched white. She’d found them on the body of a creature hours and hours ago, remarkably untouched, and was quick to tuck it into her shirt for safekeeping. She’d coax the Doll out of her hat and braid the ribbons into her hair, the action clumsy and stiff from a lack of practice (Had it been days? Weeks? Years?).

_CRASH_

Eudora halted again, thoughts of fancy ripped from her mind as she instinctively jerked her trick axe into its secondary form, gripping it with both gloved hands and turning to face the source of the sound – the storefront to her left.

It was identical to the rest she’d been passing, shattered window and all. There were no mannequins in the window, no fancy dresses or hat racks or potions…. She lowered her axe, staring in confusion at the item on display – a sword. A fencing sword. A rapier.

Her feet moved her forward, pushing open the splintered door and taking in the interior of the shop. Eyes passing over the folded-over decimated body in the corner, Eudora took in rows and rows of pegs on the walls, some still holding foils and épées. There were wire headless silhouettes wearing fencing  
equipment, tables with training swords, and on the clerks counter sat a pair of bloodied fencing gloves and a ledger book, open and abandoned, a large puddle of dried ink covering whatever information it once held.

The Hunter made for the window, nudging aside toppled chairs and sales displays, and crouched by the rapier. She curled her hand over the hilt of the sword. The weight was familiar.

She stood and felt her posture change, her feet shift, her hips tilt outward and back, balancing most of her weight on her back leg. She gripped the hilt tight, and her free hand found her side.

_And thrust._

-

_“…. Very good, Mrs. Brenston, very good. And again.”_  
_Eudora paced, watching Ada return to first position, foil swinging gently as she moved. She watched Ada perform her basic steps – parry, parry, thrust, again – feeling a small sense of satisfaction over her pupil’s improvement. When Ada’s husband suggested she find some sort of recreational activity to engage herself in now that their son was in school, Eudora doubted fencing was what he expected, but the petite woman was a natural._

_“Again.”_

_Parry, parry, thrust. Eudora’s eyes trailed over her posture – back straight, free arm curled to her side, hand resting on her skirted hip. Her mouth went dry as she admired the curve of her corseted waist, and she cleared her throat. “That’s enough, Mrs. Brenston. Excellent work, as usual.”_

_“Thank you, Miss Grimwig,” Ada replied. She tucked her foil under her arm – Eudora tsked for her carelessness – and reached up to tug her fencing mask from her head. Her hair,strawberry blonde and fair, was pulled up into loose bun at the top of her head, flyaway wisps of sweat-damp hair sticking to her misty temple and neck. She grinned, lips cherry-pink and cheeks flushed from exertion, chocolate brown eyes glinting playfully at her instructor. Eudora was four years Ada’s junior, a fact which amused the woman to no end. “And thank you for letting me stay after class. I do hope I didn’t put you out.”_

_“Of course not,” Eudora replied, relieving Ada of her mask and taking it to put away on its peg on the wall. “You know I’m always happy to help – though I must admit,” she huffed, a laugh in her low voice, “I don’t quite understand why you think you need additional training, Mrs. Brenston. You’re possibly the most skilled student in your class.”_

_She heard the click of Ada’s heels on hardwood, the sound coming to a stop directly behind Eudora. “Perhaps, Miss Grimwig,” Ada replied carefully, “I simply wanted to spend more time in your company.”_  
_She felt a hand rest lightly on her hip, her breath on her neck. Eudora’s blood was pounding in her ears._

_She smiled._

-

“YOU’RE NOT WANTED HERE, _BEAST_!”

Eudora screamed in pain as a blade tore through her back, and her head swam. The Hunter toppled forward, rapier tumbling from her hands. She landed hard on her stomach, the wind beat from her lungs, and she gasped as her vision turned spotty.

Another hideous screech filled the room, the swoosh of the beast’s weapon swishing over her head. She rolled to the side and onto her back, choking on her own gasps as she struggled to regain her breath.  
The beast was dressed in fencing gear, mask dangling around its neck, protective padding torn and stained with all imaginable sorts of filth. It had a sabre in its hand, rusted, but sharp. It swung it down to her head, and Eudora rolled out of its path just in time.

She scrambled for the fallen rapier and stumbled to her feet, then darted around the beast as it clumsily followed her path. She stabbed into its body with the rapier and a grunt of rage, feeling adrenaline fade as it sunk deep into the beast’s back. The creature gasped in pain, gurgling and ungraceful. With a sharp, rough tug, the rapier’s blade was yanked from the beast’s body and it fell to the ground with a dull thud.

The building fell silent, save for her harsh pants and gasps. Eudora stumbled over to the clerk’s counter and sank against it, running a hand through her frizzy, thick hair as she fought for her breath. Her gaze drifted down to the rapier in her hand, fresh blood dripping from its blade.

Eudora’s eyes clenched shut, and she struggled against her body’s adrenaline, panic-filled confusion to recall the memory holding the blade had conjured up – it must have been a memory. What else could it be? She was mad, yes, just as mad as anything else in the Nightmare, but that…. That was too clear, too  
bright, too colorful to be anything insanity could create.

“Ada,” she breathed into the room. Her eyes opened, a stab of tension shocking her body to standing as her stare landed on the doorway – as if she expected the woman from her vision to appear before her thousands of miles away from where Eudora once called home.

Nothing was there, of course. Just an open doorway leading to cobblestone streets.

Stupid.

After a quick look around the room Eudora found a sheath. She hooked it onto her belt, sheathed her rapier, then left the building without turning back.

-

“Welcome home, Good Hunter.”

Eudora smiled weakly, feeling the open wounds across her back close as she approached the Doll. She bowed to her, and the Doll curtsied back. She perched on the stone wall her darling stood before, sighing heavily and feeling her body ache as she finally let it rest. “Hello, Doll,” she replied. She shrugged her coat from her shoulders and slumped against the wall, grass and flowers tickling at her legs through her thin trousers.

“You seem troubled,” The Doll said, her face impassive as ever, but her voice laced with concern. Eudora waved a hand.

“I’m fine, my sweet. Just tired.” She unhooked her trick axe from her hip, sighing in relief as the weight was lifted from her body. Her pistol was next, then her new blade.

The Doll tilted her head to the side, glass eyes moving over the sheathed weapon. Eudora smiled at her curiosity. “What is this?”

“Found it in an abandoned shop. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She tugged the rapier from its sheath – the blade now clean, just as her clothes and body were – and it glinted in the forever-moonlight.

“Of course,” the Doll replied, eyeing the weapon wearily. Eudora found this amusing, as she showed no such fear towards her far more dangerous looking trick axe. “Does it have a name?”

“Not that I know of,” Eudora replied. She rested the long blade on her lap, gloved fingertip smoothing over the decorative hilt. “Should it?”

“Most do, do they not?” The Doll replied.

Eudora’s thoughts went to Excalibur, Bluemoon and Drakewing. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll think of one.” She closed her eyes, happy to humor the Doll if it would please her. When she opened them again there was only one name on her mind – one that would fit.

“Ada.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please note I know noooothing about fencing. The rapier Eudora finds here is just a common Italian rapier and not Reiterpallasch (at this point in the story Eudora hasn't even gotten to cainhurst castle yet). Not as much shippy stuff in this one, but this story is just as much about my hunter as it is about them being in love. More of that coming soon though!  
> (Thanks to Nick for reading this over for me, luv ya)  
> If you get the v obvious dark souls references you get a cookie.


End file.
